Lemon Drops
by The Heroine With 1000 Faces
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione deal with the traumas of the war. Includes Hermione dealing with her torture by Bellatrix and other characters going through some hard times.
1. What Is Right And What Is Easy

"Aren't you coming, 'Mione? Kreacher's sure to have some wonderful sandwiches!"

"Yes, Ron, I'll just be a few moments." Harry gave her a strange look and then turned to go. Hermione waited until the boys had left and slumped into one of the chairs next to the desk with a groan. Mcgonagall peered down at her worriedly.

"Miss-Hermione. Are you alright, dear?"

Well, I guess none of them knew, then. Only Harry, Ron, Fleur and Bill. And she was sure they had all been too busy to tell anyone. Not as if it was very important, really. There had been a war going on, and the focus had been on conquering Voldemort, rightly so. But now...

"Hermione, dear?"

Hermione blinked.

"Of course, Prof-Headmistress. I just need a moment to collect my thoughts. We've had quite a bit going on these past few months." Mcgonagall laughed dryly then replied more seriously,

"Take all the time you need, my dear. We will all have all the time we need now. It's all over, thanks to you three, most of all. Yes, thank Merlin it's all over. Now the healing can begin..." she trailed off, walking down the winding staircase.

'_All over,'_ thought Hermione bitterly. _'Perhaps for everyone else.' _

After she was certain McGonagall was gone she glanced toward Dumbledore's portrait. She'd felt as if he'd been watching her...

Spotting the familiar dish of lemon drops on the desk, she hastily grabbed the lot of them. Then, popping one in her mouth, she put the remainder in her bag.

"Ah, so you figured out they were Calming drops, I see?"

Hermione froze. Slowly she turned to look at the portrait.

"Headmaster, I-" He cut her off with a knowing smile.

"It's perfectly alright, my dear. I suspect many will need all the succor and comfort they can get in the days to come. But you more than most, perhaps?"

Hermione stared at the painted eyes, somehow seeming full of warmth and light even though they were only an illusion.

Sighing, she broke the silence, "How much do you know? Only what you've heard, correct?" Dumbledore's smile straightened to a grimace.

"Indeed, I can only get further knowledge from conversations around or directly to me, and the things I knew while alive. Unfortunately...I have heard...quite a bit of what occurred."

Hermione bit her inner lip, daring him to continue but her former Headmaster said nothing more. Taking hold of the candy dish she threw it to the floor.

"So, everyone knows, hmm? Poor Hermione, so weak and worried about her own problems when there's a whole world out there that needs mending! BLOODY RIDICULOUS!" She collapsed upon the chair beneath her.

Dumbledore's eyes held a pitying gaze that Hermione did not see, and something else: regret.

"I wish I could have been there to spare you from what you endured."

_"Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"_

Hermione's eyes which had been squeezed tightly shut, snapped open. "Endured?! I almost let her-I had NO CHOICE! Let that-_bitch_ torture me half to death or give up everything I knew."

Dumbledore's eyes slid shut, and a tear fell.

"I nearly did, you know," she continued, "I nearly told her all of it. The sword, Harry-anything to make the pain stop-" she choked on her words, breathless. She saw it before her eyes now as she saw it every night while she slept: the Manor, Bellatrix and her cold sneer as she threw her roughly to the tiles.

_"Crucio!" _

_Again. And again. And again-_

"I feel like I'm being ripped apart-I've been trying to hold it together for Harry, for Ron, everyone! I just don't think I can..._anymore_." From her place on the floor (_when had she fallen to her knees_?) Hermione looked once more at the portrait of Dumbledore.

He was crying.

For her? If anything, Harry was the one he and the rest should be feeling bad for. He had DIED! He had suffered so much more than her-

Hermione felt something drip onto her arm only to realize _she_ had been crying. She hastily wiped her face with a robe sleeve and picked herself up off the carpet. A quick glance at Dumbledore proved his weary gaze still lingered on her.

"There are those you can go to, Hermione. Minerva, for instance, or myself. I believe we have some healers who are set up to talk to the bereaved and-"

"Yes, the BEREAVED! Not some stupid girl who should be able to deal with her own problems! There are those who need more help than I do, take Harry, for instance-" For the first time in her knowledge, her former headmaster's eyes widened with rage and he spoke loud and clear:

_"Who are you to belittle your own trials and tragedies, Miss Granger!?_," he saw her surprised expression and his features softened. "Yes, there are those that have been through much, things unspeakably terrible and horrifying. Harry is one of them. But so are you."

At this, Hermione averted her eyes from the portrait's penetrating gaze. _Damn that man's powers of perception-_

"You were mercilessly tortured by the beast that was Bellatrix Lestrange. You have a right to be more than a little affected by that, no?"

Hermione gave a subtle peek into her bag. Perhaps one more lemon drop wouldn't hurt. It seemed the affects of the first one were wearing off already-

"The drops were made by me to help comfort those in need temporarily in my office. I offered them to Harry many times, but, clever boy, he surmised their purpose."

Hermione chuckled. "That's just like him."

Dumbledore smiled a bit. "He near destroyed my office once, you know. I thought your throwing of my little candy dish was going to become, well...something more." Hermione's mouth quirked up.

"I was tempted..."

"Ah, but I would have quite deserved it. And did the first time..." Dumbledore's now sobered expression reminded her of the topic at hand.

"I'm just...afraid. Ron and Harry heard what was going on, and I'm sure maybe some of the teachers know the basics, but..." She trailed off, not wanting to continue. It HURT to continue.

"Hermione." She met the Headmaster's blue eyes. They steadied her.

"You are stronger then you realize. Much stronger. I knew when I first saw you-"

"Yes, with Harry, right? The part I was to play in helping him-"

"No, Miss Granger!" She noticed whenever he was stern with her he reverted back to her using her surname. She pursed her lips, holding in a small smile.

"When I first laid eyes on you in the Great Hall, even before your name was called and you stepped up to put on the Sorting hat, I saw a courage in you. Conviction, a yearning to become more than a simple witch. You wanted to change the world."

Hermione gasped. It was exactly what she had believed she could do, when she first got her letter and a big wide world opened up to her, possibilities and hopes and dreams-

"I did. And I still do."

Dumbledore gave her a somber smile.

"But you have, my dear."

A tear trickled down her cheek and her face crumpled.

"I made _my_ world worse."

Dumbledore sighed sadly. "You have done more good than I could have hoped to do in my lifetime."

Hermione, stunned, replied, "What are you talking about? You defeated Grindelwald, you created the Order, helped Harry, saved countless lives-"

"Yes. But for all the wrong reasons." Dumbledore raised a hand to cover his face and Hermione thought she could hear a low sob. She began to gather her things, thinking he needed some time alone, but Dumbledore called out,

"Hermione." Her hand on the doorknob, she turned slowly.

"Yes, Headmaster?"

The corner of his mouth turned up, "I do believe we can dispense with that title now. Minerva is doing a wonderful job and I have faith she will continue to do so for many years to come. You may call me Albus, if you like."

Hermione said nothing but blushed a bit. Dumbledore laughed lightly.

"Or not. I'm sure Minerva will not mind if you call me by my old status."

Hermione nodded and made to leave when he called her once more.

"Hermione, when you feel you are able, remember, you are not alone. Talk to someone. It is not good to keep these things inside yourself for too long. You may find they poison your thoughts of the future."

_Was he always this cryptic? _She nodded again, and feeling Dumbledore's eyes on her back stepped out of the office and shut the door behind her.


	2. More Important Things

Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows, guys! It really makes me so happy-you have no idea. To have people actually enjoy what you are writing! Also just a note: this story will be semi reflective of some issues that I have been going through for years and as such will be updated as frequently as possible but DO NOT DESPAIR-I will see this story through to the end! On to the story :D

_Hair was ripped from her head as she was dragged along by Bellatrix. _

_"CRUCIO!"_

_"TELL ME!"_

_A sharp cold knife at her throat._

_"TELL ME!"_

Hermione awoke with a scream on her lips to find the whole common room staring at her. Some had tears in their eyes. A sixth year whose name she didn't know spoke up.

"We tried to wake you, but-"

Hermione's pillow felt wet. She got up and hurried into the bathroom to confirm her suspicions.

A frightened little girl stared back at her. She let out a ragged sigh. Merlin, they'd had to grow up so much during the war, especially the past few months. Still, in many ways she felt like a child, afraid and looking for comfort in the dark.

She desperately wanted to hug her parents again but thought it might be safer to wait to go to Australia until it had been declared safe by the new Ministry to travel. They were still rounding up the remaining Death Eaters who had either not been in the battle or had escaped during the fighting after they saw the tide beginning to turn.

She splashed water on her face and gently patted it dry. Her eyes were bloodshot and reminded her of countless times she had spent studying until the wee hours of the morning. Only these eyes spoke of more than a fear of failing an exam or disappointing a professor by not fully explaining why a bezoar should not come into contact with mandrake root under any circumstance. Hermione gave a low bitter laugh. What she would give to have such problems be the source of her anguish now!

Dreading the looks of her dorm mates she slowly opened the door and eyes straight ahead made for her four poster and began to dress. She felt all their eyes on her until she gathered her things and quickly left the room.

Hermione found a few early risers in the Common room. Harry, who sat staring into the fire, Neville, curled up on an armchair thoroughly engrossed in a Herbology text, and Ron, who seemed to have been playing a game of chess against Harry and now sat with the abandoned board and pieces strewn around him on the floor.

"Hello, everyone."

Neville looked up immediately. "We heard...that you were screaming in the girls dorm when you woke."

Ron turned to her, brow creased, an unspoken question of concern on his lips.

"I'm...fine, Ron."

He visibly relaxed at her reassurance. Harry on the other hand, continued to stare intensely into the fire, as if he could see something the others couldn't. Hermione approached him cautiously,

"Harry, are you...alright?"

He finally turned and met her eyes. Hermione was taken aback by the naked emotion and guilt she saw in them. He swallowed but said nothing. Instead he stood up and hugged her tightly.

"'Mione, I-", Harry choked. He seemed unable to say much more than that so Hermione merely gave him a small smile and a nod.

"I know, Harry."

Ron got up off the floor, spilling the chess pieces on his lap. They both looked at him.

"Well, you're not going to leave me out, are you?"

The three friends chuckled and embraced. Their bond went deep, past flesh and bone and into their very souls. Hermione didn't know what would've become of her if not for that troll in first year that brought them together. Well, said a nasty voice inside her, You wouldn't have been tortured-

She silenced the voice but part of her still latched onto to that traitorous thought.

When they finally came out of the hug Ron was first to speak, a slight grin on his face:

"So, I'm starved. Everyone up for a bit of breakfast?"

A "bit" of breakfast, for Ron that is, turned out to be a full plate of bacon, several heaping spoonfuls of fried eggs, a large apple and a towering goblet of pumpkin juice. Hermione could barely stomach even looking at his platter. He turned to her, mouth full,

"Oo ooo eyes 'ant ooo oh on ah idditch itch?"

Ginny snickered across the table and in a perfect impression of her mother said, "Ronald Weasley! Have you still not learned manners by now!? Swallow your food before you speak!"

Ron gulped loudly and gave his sister a guilty look.

"You're much too good at that, you know."

Ginny nodded and she was annoyed when she spoke next, "Well I ought to be, haven't I? Stuck around Mum the whole of the War while you three got to go around saving the world and what not."

"It wasn't that simple, Ginny," Harry said, frustrated. "It was...you should be glad that you were not forced to make the decisions we had to make-"

Ginny's face reddened and Ron knew what came next before it happened.

"Of course! Because you all thought Ginny was 'too young and precious, poor innocent Ginevra'-can't let her be soiled by the mere THOUGHT of anything other then setting the table and watching everyone else have a real part in the war!"

After her tirade was over, Luna came over before she could start up again. "Why don't we try to levitate some of the rubble, they really need help over by the lake. It seems the Squid has been injured and I think maybe Snorkacks are involved..."

Luna had taken hold of Ginny's arm and was leading her away. Ginny glanced back at the table giving all of them a very hard look, but she grudgingly let Luna pull her in the direction of the Hall's main doors. When they were out of sight, Ron gave a sigh of relief.

"Merlin, I thought she was going to go on forever; she really has learned well from Mum."

Hermione laughed lightly. "She certainly has. But you shouldn't be too judgmental of her Ron, I can't imagine what it must have been like for Ginny and all the students here at the castle while we were gone. They must have felt so helpless, so...hopeless..."

She trailed off and looked at her friends. Ron was staring moodily down at his now empty plate. Harry was idly twirling his spoon in a bowl of jam, the same despairing look on his face as earlier in the Common Room. Hermione wanted to say something to him, but didn't know exactly what to say and how. Ron broke the silence.

"So, like I just said, anyone up for a game down at the Quidditch pitch?"

Hermione wondered how Ron could think about playing Quidditch after all that had happened. There were still repairs to be done, students to grieve-

"That doesn't sound bad, actually," said Neville, "I heard last night that the teachers were going to allow a few practice games this morning, perhaps on and off all summer, to help...lighten the mood, I 'spose."

Ron's eyes brightened. Hermione began to smile in spite of herself. She turned to Harry, expecting a similar reaction, but found him already standing and making to leave.

"Where are you going, Harry?" said a very confused Ron. Harry looked down at his shoes and back up at his three friends.

"I have...erm, something I have to take care of, Ron. 'Mione, Neville, I'll see you all on the pitch later, maybe. Alright?" He was walking away before any of them could respond.

~~~A/N~~~~~

Next is a Harry chapter! Thanks for reading! And...please review :3


	3. A Different Kind Of Bravery

I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews, follows and favorites for this story. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Seriously, here's a little lightning bolt shaped cookie for all of you. Well, it's there, you just...can't see it, I guess

A little past ten the same morning found Harry on his hands and knees in the Forbidden Forest. It hadn't taken him long to get away from the others in the Great Hall, though he was sure he'd have to answer for his unexplained disappearance later.

He swept his watering eyes back and forth, scratched up hands searching amongst leaves and brush alike in a frenzy.

"It's got to be here," he cried aloud, "I know it was somewhere in this area-it has to be, it just-"

A rustling made him jump to his feet, wand out and a spell on his lips. To his surprise, it was neither a rogue Death Eater seeking revenge or someone from the castle looking for bodies. It was Firenze, the centaur who had gone against his herd by helping Harry and was still something of an enigma to him. The centaur's eyes locked on his.

"What are you doing in these woods again, Harry Potter? We assumed you would not venture here again, this being where the...moment happened."

Harry frowned and then began to shake as be realized what Firenze was referring to. This was the campsite. This was where he had gone to meet his end at the tip of Voldemort's wand.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Yeah, I, erm, dropped something when I was last here. Fell out of my pockets, probably-"

_The stone, slipping out of his numb fingers as he stood before his approaching death, it wouldn't be long now, Sirius said it would be quicker and easier than falling asleep-_

"I highly doubt that, young Harry," Firenze dropped his head down to look Harry in the eye. "You are searching

for the Stone, no?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You know about the Resurrection Stone?"

"Even my kind know of the Peverells. The old tales are of great import to many creatures of higher thought and morality."

Harry tilted his chin up. "Suppose I am. It's mine, isn't it? I can use it however I like."

Firenze inclined his head, "Indeed, it is yours, Harry Potter. But have you not already used it for its' intended purpose? You saw your loved ones before meeting the Evil One, correct?"

Harry clenched his jaw, eyes shut. "I did."

"I too lost my parents, when I was but a foal. I know the deep sadness, the emptiness inside that takes and takes and gives back nothing in return."

Harry, who was still sitting in the dirt, had been contemplating trying to outrun the centaur but when he heard Firenze speak about his own loss he became confused and said angrily, "Then you should understand why I want to see them again! To have them there, so briefly..."

He held back tears. "My mum, she looked at me and I-I didn't want to let her go. Any of them. It was all my fault and they'll never know-how-HOW SORRY I AM!"

Firenze put a hand on Harry's shaking shoulders. "Then there is nothing I can do to sway your decision. I see your resolve and...regardless of my thoughts on this matter, Harry Potter...you are the keeper of your own destiny and ultimately only you can choose what path to take."

"I get to choose my own path now, huh? S'bout time." Harry muttered bitterly, not bothering to wipe his eyes.

Firenze gave an audible sigh. "I wish you well on your journey, Harry Potter. Should you ever need guidance...look to the stars."

Before Harry could say anything else Firenze galloped off into the depths of the forest. "He gets more mysterious every bloody time I see him." Harry shook his head briefly before resuming his search in the dirt.

Without realizing it, his travels had led him towards a cluster of shrubs that had some sort of strange fungi on them. Harry didn't fancy touching the foreign plant and was about to move on to another section of greenery when something caught his eye. Peeking out from under a rotten leaf-

"Yes!" Harry felt tears of relief and gladness prick his eyes. Slowly he reached out, moving the tiniest of twigs and branches aside, as if afraid the stone might come alive and run from him. He rose, holding the stone in the palm of his hand for a moment, stroking the smooth surface with his thumb. It looked so unremarkable...

Finally, he couldn't hold off any longer. Harry closed his eyes, eagerly turning the stone over in his hands _once, twice, three times-_

He held his breath and opened his eyes. Looking around he whispered, _"Mum?"_ Seeing no one, Harry began to sob quietly, but a slight noise behind him made him whirl around. He gasped and exclaimed, "What-what are YOU doing here?"

Dark eyes stared back at him, saying nothing.

A/N: Two more cookies to those who can guess our mystery character correctly! See you next time on "Lemon Drops"!


	4. Stay With Me

I'd like to sincerely thank all of you who have reviewed, followed and favorited this fic. It means a great deal to me. I haven't had a great week (when do I ever?) and I think this chapter really shows it emotionally. Also-a shout out to anonymous reviewer:shewhohasaname-you guessed right ;) Songs for this chapter: "Into Dust" by Mazzy Star and "Time to Say Goodnight" by Two Ton Boa.

* * *

"You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," said James. (DH "The Forest Again")

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?"

The other man said nothing for a moment. Harry grew angrier by the minute.

"Why are you here, Snape?!"

Snape's eyes seemed far gentler looking upon Harry now than they ever had in life. The older man wore the same robes he had always worn in Hogwarts, though in such a pristine state Harry swore he could see the reflection of the trees and shadows behind him displayed upon it.

Harry's rage continued to simmer until it finally boiled off and he slumped to the ground, head in his hands. "If you won't say anything, then I won't either."

"You cannot see them, Harry," said Snape suddenly.

Harry looked up, startled out of his reverie. "What?" he whispered, brow creasing. Snape must have taken a deep breath because Harry could see his robes move slightly.

"...Any of them. We do not belong on this plane. Furthermore, using the stone will only give the illusion of them being alive for you. And they are not."

"You think I don't know they aren't ALIVE, Snape?," Harry stressed his words for emphasis, just in case Snape thought he was still a child of some sort, "I hadn't seen them for seventeen years! Ten minutes just _wasn't bloody enough for me_, alright? Sorry!"

Snape bowed his head and when he met Harry's eyes again his own glistened with unshed tears. _He's always been a good actor though_, Harry thought. _It's not like he actually cares, even though he's dead._

"Oh, don't pretend Snape," said Harry, his voice echoing strangely in the clearing. "I saw the memories in the Pensieve, the ones you gave me before I went off like_ "a pig to slaughter"_ as you so poetically put it? You never gave a hippogriff's arse about me. Only my Mum, right? Not like I can blame you, though, I did get her killed-"

"Enough, Harry!" Snape's voice was laced not with anger but a deep sadness. "There is no doubt that both I and Dumbledore treated you wrongly, I for comparing you to your father, and Dumbledore-"

"We aren't talking about _him_, Snape! I already did, in that bizarre dream that I still don't know wasn't some hallucination from the Horcrux being knocked out of me and, erm, I dunno-DYING!" He was out of breath, but Harry continued on out of sheer anger and frustration.

He actually had not thought about everything that night up until now-how he been like a pawn in a game of Wizard chess, sacrificed at the proper moment to advance the more important players forward; time had been short and be had been far too busy trying to work up enough courage to _die_-

"Harry!"

Harry banged a fist upon a nearby stump and stood up, his face inches away from Snape's. He opened his mouth to yell and shout and scream at the man some more, but found he simply couldn't bring himself to expend any more energy. (He couldn't see his parents, his Mum?)

"What now, Snape?" Harry's voice broke, and to his embarrassment he found himself crying in front of his former Potions master. Sitting down on a log, Snape sighed.

"I am sorry, Harry. For...everything. I wish I had treated you better in life but I could not see past my hatred of your Father. You carried a tremendous burden...I will not even ask for your forgiveness, for I deserve none," he finished quietly.

Harry said nothing. The two of them sat in silence for a time. The forest was nearly silent except for the sound of distant birds above them. It was oddly peaceful, thought Harry. He longed for that peace. Seeing his parents had made him feel that way, and Sirius, Remus...none of them had deserved to die. But they had, and Harry would not see them again, at least not for a very long while. Despair gripped him then, a cold fist around his heart, and he recalled the moment he'd stood before his parents graves in Godric's Hollow wishing for nothing more than to be under the ground with them.

"I understand why Cadmus killed himself now," said Harry softly.

Snape turned to look at him, eyes wide, "What?"

Harry continued, eyes downcast, "The Peverells. The second brother brought his love back with the stone but he couldn't really have her...she didn't belong there," he dug a foot into the leaves at his feet and barked a bitter laugh.

"You're supposed to choose the Cloak in the story, least that's what Hermione said. I could never understand why anyone wouldn't choose the Stone, or why the two brothers had been so easily taken in. I do now, though. Figures," Harry stole a glance at Snape and found him staring back, his face unreadable, so he went on,

"I wish the Stone had never come to me. I just...wish none of this had ever happened-"

Harry was finding it harder to go on talking without his chest feeling heavy, or his eyes stinging. He put his head in his hands, gripping fistfuls of his hair tightly.

"I...cannot tell you that your life will be easy, Harry, even now with Tom Riddle's death," said Snape. "And there will be dark times ahead still, I am sure. But you have your friends. Do not seek to keep them out now, when you need them most," He gave a heavy sigh, "That was my disadvantage. I turned away...the only friend I had when I could have used her help the most. But I was young...and foolish...do not make the same mistakes."

He was talking about his mother, wasn't he? thought Harry, bringing his head up. Part of him felt a bit sad that Snape and his Mum had that falling out. Knowing what he knew now about the man, he was sure things would have turned out differently.

They sat in silence again, listening to the forest. It had gotten darker, and Harry wondered how long he had been out there in the deep woods, away from the warmth of the castle and those who knew him-_-(he'd left without saying goodbye, just like THAT night, all alone and frightened, a child seeking comfort from spirits in the dark-)_

"Harry, are you alright?" questioned Snape.

Harry blinked. He had been panting heavily and was in a cold sweat that made it feel chillier outside than it really was. He shrugged and shakily stood up.

"Yeah, Snape. M'alright."

Snape's brow furrowed. "Harry, what you have been through is nothing to be taken lightly. You died."

Harry flinched at the words but stayed upright, "Tell me something I _don't_ know, Professor."

Snape regarded him with a strange expression. _Was it guilt, pity...no, definitely not that last one._

"I'm afraid I must leave you now, Harry," said Snape, standing effortlessly. His robes billowed in that familiar way that normally gave Harry and every other student in Hogwarts a horrid feeling of dread. Now, though, they seemed to have an airiness to them, a sort of majesty.

"You only just got here...can't you...stay a bit longer?"

Harry was startled to hear himself speak those words aloud and felt he needed something to cover his mistake.

"It seems I feel more comfortable around the dead than the living," he coughed out a laugh, hiding the truth in the statement.

But asking Snape of all people, to stay...it appeared that the Potions master had changed after all.

Snape gave him a sad smile, "I cannot, Harry. Being here for so long already has tired me; we Dead are not meant to remain for more than a little while."

Snape continued, his dark eyes boring into Harry's. "It would be wise for you to "lose" the Stone again. You have shown a strong inclination towards using it that is, frankly, unhealthy."

Harry gave a sharp nod, and grimaced. "Of course, yeah. I could...lose it, somehow."

Snape looked at him so disconcertingly that Harry was sure he was using Legilimency and averted his gaze. Was the man taking lessons from Dumbledore? _This was ridiculous. Only his former Headmaster had ever looked at him with such worry and doubt_ at once.

"Erm, goodbye, then. Professor," he said as he dropped the stone.

Snape inclined his head and Harry swore he saw a smile come to the older man's lips before he disappeared,

"Good luck, Harry."

Harry picked up the Stone. Rolling it around in between his fingers he whispered, "Thanks, Snape."

Harry pocketed the Stone.


	5. I Don't Care

**50 reviews! Mind blowing, I tell you. Just think how I'll feel if we get to 100...don't you want to find out? Songs for this chapter: "My Body is a Cage" by Arcade Fire and "New Slang" by the Shins (really great song) Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"_I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!"_

_"You do care," said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."_

― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

* * *

As he made his way back to the castle, Harry passed a group of students gathering stones of different sizes and levitating them into the air. One sixth year boy, Randall, he believed he had seen fight quite valiantly in the battle and take down several Death Eaters. Randall saw Harry and approached him excitedly as he set down his rocks. Speaking at light speed, he started,

"Hello, Harry! Would you like to help us? Ofcourse, I'dunderstandifyouhadotherthingstoattendto-"

Harry was immediately reminded of Colin Creevey. The young Colin had apparently fought even when he and the other students who were nowhere near to being old enough to fight were banned from battle. God, Colin...his overeager smile, his innocence-Harry wished he'd posed for some of his pictures now...

Harry held up a hand, trying not to retch, "Sure, Randall. What are you doing? Clearing away some rubble?"

Randall sobered instantly. "Actually, we're collecting some things to use in the memorial service, it's going to be tomorrow, you know?"

Harry's heart quickened. He'd expected some sort of eulogies for the dead, after all there had been so many...too many-but so soon? He wasn't sure he was prepared. _If he had only given himself up to Voldemort sooner; he'd been such a coward!-_

"Harry?" Randall asked, concern on his face, "You alright?"

Harry inhaled sharply, "I'm sorry, I have to go, I-"

Randall nodded sympathetically. "It's okay, mate. We all understand."

Harry felt a fleeting anger sweep through him. They _UNDERSTOOD?!_ He highly doubted it. Instead of voicing these thoughts he merely pasted a smile on his face.

"Goodbye, then."

Harry all but ran from the scene.

* * *

When he reached the Quidditch pitch he found Neville and Ron were already playing fairly high up on their brooms. Hermione sat on the sidelines alternating between reading what looked to be a heavy tome and watching the boys pass the Quaffle back and forth. A faint smile came to her face when she glanced up every now and then at her friends in the air. When she saw Harry approach her smile widened. "Hello, Harry! I'm so glad you decided to come join us."

Without warning a mass of bushy hair came at him as she stood and hugged him. When she let go, Harry had a good look at her face. Bags under her eyes told him she hadn't been sleeping well. He gave her a half smile,

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Hermione nodded and looked at her feet, "It's just...I didn't think it would be this difficult. To move past everything," her eyes began to sting _(don't you DARE cry!_) and she blinked several times before continuing. "We didn't really think about what we'd do after all this was...done, did we?"

Harry laughed. "Well, that's an understatement. I assumed I'd end up dead. And," his voice was hollow, "I guess I did, didn't I?"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, Harry! We had no-we thought you'd faked it somehow, when you appeared out from under the Cloak-"

Harry shook his head. "It's alright, Mione', really." He sighed.

Hermione stood her ground. "No, it really isn't Harry, you need help-"

"HARRY!" Ron and Neville yelled as they descended. Neville reached the grass first and put a hand on Harry's shoulder as Hermione sat down with a huff.

"I've been meaning to thank you, Harry."

"For what?" Harry frowned.

Neville gave him a warm smile. "For giving me the confidence I needed on the battlefield," He was breathing quite heavily and sat down on the bench. "Still a right bit out of shape," Neville grinned, "but that didn't stop me the other day! You should've seen me, Harry! Off with that evil snake's head!"

Ron heard him telling the now famous tale and rushed over.

"It was bloody amazing," said Ron, "everyone's still talking about it." He looked admiringly at Neville. The other boy continued,

"If it hadn't been for you telling me that, Harry, for giving me, giving us the strength-all year, not just when Voldemort came for us-I don't know what I or anyone would've done!"

Harry said nothing. Just then, he noticed Ron's eyes were red. "You okay, mate?"

"Why-oh," Ron rubbed an eye, "Neville had just done this amazing move, and it reminded us of the time where Fred..." He trailed off.

Harry felt his eyes watering. Merlin, Fred hadn't deserved to die, none of them had-_all his fault, all his_-

"So," said Hermione briskly, "did everyone hear about the memorial? Should be-well, "exciting" really isn't the right word, but majestic, perhaps?"

Neville nodded, "They've set it for tomorrow, I believe. To give some of us time to...prepare."

Ron gulped. He didn't know how he was going to react tomorrow-_bloody hell, he didn't know how his family was going to react_! He supposed Mum would be the most hysterical, Dad would be comforting her, and George...

He didn't know what George would do. And that scared him.

The four friends looked at each other wearily.

"It's going to be a long day, tomorrow," sighed Hermione, "we'd best get some rest."

Harry looked at the sky and was quite rattled to see it was darkening. The day had really gotten away from him.

"Right," he said, "we'd better get something before everything's been eaten," even though he knew very well that was an impossible occurrence.

They headed back to the castle and the warmth of the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry found himself merely picking at a treacle tart and nursing a half goblet of pumpkin juice. His appetite had been slowly lessening in the last few months but seeing Snape and thinking about the upcoming memorials made it enormously difficult to be enthusiastic about eating. It seemed the others at the table were in a similar situation.

Neville was sitting by Luna staring down at his chicken forlornly. Across from him, Hermione was taking a sip every now and then from her cup and nibbling on the end of a quill. Ron was had his eyes closed and his plate was occupied by a lone piece a buttered toast which hadn't been touched. The rest of the hall was filled with students but instead of the hum of activity that normally came with dinner hour there was a hush, an eerie calm that seemed to smother the air and chatter. Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, he needed to _get out, get AWAY-_

"I'm heading up," he said. Ron didn't look up. Hermione slowly lifted her head with a frown.

"Are you sure you're alright? I know you can't be, Harry, after all that's happened-"

Harry gave her a sharp look, impatient to leave and sick of her worry. "I'm fine. Are _you_, though? No, you're **not**. And it's..." He was startled by the harshness of his voice and by the looks of it, so was Hermione. She sadly watched him walk away and stopped herself from following him.

"He just needs to be alone..." she explained, feeling quite useless. _We are all so lost, aren't we?_

Neither Ron or Neville looked up from their dishes.

* * *

**A/N-I see I have more than a few followers, and that's fabulous! If some of you could take the time to review, even just a few words, a feeling you got, a reaction-it would mean so much to me. Thank you.**


	6. It Does Not Do To Dwell On Dreams

As Harry made his way to the dormitory those he passed got quickly out of his way and Harry could feel the eyes of everyone on him as he walked. Out of the corner of his vision he saw several first years whose mouths fell open upon seeing his face. Harry ignored them and continued walking until he was stopped by an incredulous shout-

"_THAT'S HARRY POTTER!-_the boy who killed "You Know Who"!"

Harry turned, suddenly seized by anger, "At least call him by his REAL name now that he's dead! Tom Riddle-he holds no power over anyone anymore!"

He didn't know if he was trying to convince the students or himself with that last bit.

Those in the hallway were beginning to form a crowd; they stopped and looked at him, perhaps waiting to see what the "_Great Harry Potter_" would say next?

The younger students stood stock still, trembling with a palpable fear. Were they...afraid of him? Harry felt guilty for a moment, then-

_Good. Let them be afraid. Maybe then they'll leave me alone._

He continued walking and didn't stop again until he reached the Fat Lady. She beamed at him and opened without a word. _Typical_. Harry sat down on the bed with a sigh.

Is that what he was to be known as now? The one who killed Voldemort?Technically it had been sheer luck that had done Riddle in; he had been counting on the Elder Wand not striking him down, and it had worked out perfectly. But even though he had not fired the curse, he had just as well done the deed directly.

It was all exhausting to even think about. He'd hash it all out in the morning, when things were clearer. He was absolutely dreading the memorial. Harry pulled back the covers of the four poster and climbed in without changing out of his clothing. He was far too tired to sort all that out. As he lay his head down, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Something bumpy was under him, a pebble or something-

_An owl treat._

Harry's eyes watered so much that he couldn't even see the offending treat anymore. He held it in the palm of his hand, wishing that a certain owl would come and take it, nibbling a finger or two affectionately...

Harry didn't know how long he sat there, staring at but not actually seeing the owl treat, clenching and unclenching his hands. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he set down the food on his bedside table.

_Can'tthinkaboutthisnow-can'tcan'tcan't-_

Harry lay back down atop his covers and reluctantly closed his eyes. He was doubtful that he would get any sleep tonight, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to because in all likelihood that he would have very, very bad dreams. Harry wasn't sure when it happened, but he must have drifted off because he soon found himself facing off against Voldemort in Hogwarts again.

* * *

There were bodies strewn throughout the Great Hall. Harry stood over Ron and Hermione's motionless bodies, the Elder wand held loosely in his hand. A soft hiss came from behind him,

"_Wonderful, Harry. Just like me..._"

"NO!" Harry shouted and threw himself at the laughing Dark Lord. A fist slammed into the misshapen man's face. Then another, then another-

"I'M NOTHING LIKE YOU! YOU'RE A MONSTER!" bellowed Harry, shaking as he continued hitting his nemesis.

Voldemort chuckled in between blows, "_You are like me in more ways then you think, boy...It's only a matter of time-"_

Another fist quickly silenced him. There was no stopping Harry now. All his anger, his fears, which for the longest time had been festering inside him were now free-

Harry paused in his punches; Tom Riddle lay broken and bleeding on the ground. Harry looked down at his shaking hands. They were covered in blood. He took a step back.

He stumbled. Something was coating the floor, what was it? Harry glanced down and gasped.

_What have I done-_

The floor was slick with the blood of his friends, his family-

Harry fell to his knees and sobbed. "They're all dead because of me!"

_I killed them all...my fault..._

_my fault..._

* * *

He woke to a sodden pillowcase and stiff muscles. Harry looked around the dormitory. The other boys were still asleep, so he was luckily able to wash his face without having to talk to anyone about his restless sleep. He was about to go down to the Common room but then with a jolt he remembered what today was-

_The memorial. Damn._

Whatever calm he may have begun to feel that morning after his dream was now drifting away...

_Well, there hadn't been much calm to begin with_, he conceded inwardly.

* * *

**Just wanted to get this brief chapter out while I work on the memorial. Reviewers will be gifted with a virtual miniature Severus Snape that says "I love you" in a sarcastic tone when you squeeze him.**


	7. Perspective

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, folks. Real life is relentless and hopeless. Thanks to the few who reviewed last chapter, it means a lot. I think most reviews were because I bribed you all with a plush virtual mini Snape, though. In this chapter I offer you...this chapter. I'd really like to have some feedback, show me some love, ya know? Anyway, enough pleading and despairing, on to the story! Any lines recognizable to you, dear Reader, are from J.K. Rowling and not myself.**

* * *

_"Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?" -_**Deathly Hallows**

* * *

Hermione awoke that morning with a cry on her lips. She'd been in that hall again, enduring Cruciatus after Cruciatus, with barely a break in between to have questions yelled at her.

_"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"_

_"We found it – we found it – PLEASE!"_

Hermione knew begging would have no effect on a psychopath like Bellatrix Lestrange but pain had made her desperate and impulsive.

_"TELL ME! CRUCIO!"_

Hermione screamed, a long piercing sound, and faintly she heard a panic-stricken voice call out in answer-

_"Hermione!"_

Ron.

In her pain she could not even muster up a smile. Hell, she didn't even remember how to smile anymore. How long had she been laying here, succumbing to these awful knives of fire in her body and mind? It seemed like forever. Hermione felt the curse lift and took the time to steel her nerves. Before she could ready herself for the next bout of curses, a hand roughly gripped her chin and shook it.

_"Mudblood, you test my patience," _said Bellatrix with a sneer. _"You will beg for your death by the time I am done with you!"_ She dropped Hermione's chin and it fell to her chest like a rag dolls'. Finally, a rest...

_"NO SLEEPING ON THE JOB, GIRL!"_ she cackled and slapped Hermione so hard her nose started to bleed. Wonderful.

_"Perhaps I need to loosen your tongue a bit..."_

More begging. And then more screaming.

She'd jerked awake violently, her cries quickly muffled by a pillow as she lay there surrounded by sticky sheets. Hermione desperately wanted a shower but was as of yet unable to drag herself out of bed. She simply had to get ready and her hair was a mess of tangles from her restless sleep-

_Her_ hair had been just like that.

With a shiver, Hermione recalled the terrifying hours she had spent inside the madwoman's skin; Bellatrix had a stronger left hand than her right, _her wand hand_, she had assumed. Her left ring finger had given a twitch every so often. Probably from all those torture sessions with various unfortunate victims. _This was how it felt to be a murderer,_ she'd thought as she'd gripped the strange wand. _I'm not her_, she'd cried inwardly, _this is NOT ME!_

Her hair had indeed been tangled, in fact, this was a severe understatement. Lestrange's hair had been a rat's nest-something that Hermione hadn't dared to try and do anything because she'd been trying so hard to forget she was even in another body. Of course this was nearly impossible to do when she'd had to focus on acting the part of the person she hated and feared most of all.

Even now she could remember how her (_hers_) hooded eyes had blinked slowly, lazily as she spoke to the goblins in Gringotts; there was an almost seductive way about the woman in everything she did. Perhaps she had used her body as well as her magic to be the demise of those she had in her sights-_no, nodontthinkaboutthat-_ Hermione had felt sick then and even now. A creature of darkness, she had been-and Lestrange's very being still haunted her.

She shook herself and pressed both hands to her eyes. _The memorial_. Merlin, she was dreading it. _Ah, weren't there some lemon drops left on her bag-_

She grabbed for it.

**A/N: Next is Ron and the memorial! And I I changed my mind-I will give everyone that reviews a virtual plush mini Dobby that cries "Master!" sadly when you stab-just kidding-hug him.**


	8. All That You Dread

_"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you __desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..." _

_-Tom Riddle, Deathly Hallows_

* * *

_What were they going to do to them? Hermione had really gotten Harry's face good, hopefully it would last-_

_"All except. . . . except for the Mudblood."_

_No! What was she going to do to her? NO! I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HER-_

_"You can have me, keep me!" _

_Bellatrix's hand cuffed him across the face so hard he nearly blacked out._

_"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next..."_

_"I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?" mocked locket Tom Riddle, sneering as a ghostly Hermione and Harry embraced._

_"HERMIONE! HERMIONE! NO!"_

* * *

"NO!"

"Ron, it's alright, I'm here."

Ron felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him.

His eyes were caked with the crustiness of sleep and he opened them with some difficulty. His throat was raw and dry. He groped around on his bedside table for the cup of water he had placed there last night.

"Here, Ron," said a warm familiar voice as a cup was brought into his sights. He drank the cool liquid greedily and set the goblet down again. He rolled over on his side to look at his rescuer.

"Dad? Why are you up here?"

His father smiled at him sadly. "I was checking on all of you last night before I went back to your mother, and I saw that you were...having a hard time of it," Arthur's eyes were lined with dark circles and for the first time Ron realized how old his father was.

"You look awful," he said and put a hand on his father's stubbled cheek. Arthur looked at his son more carefully.

"You've really grown, all the time you were away..." Arthur's eyes watered,"I can't imagine what you went through..."

Ron thought of dragons and torture and a horrible locket, the cold metal flush against his heart...

"Will you ever tell me what happened?" Arthur said sadly, as he sat down on the side of the bed, "I worry about all of you, especially..." he choked on his words, "...now, but I don't even know what you went through, son! You were on the run from-You-Know-" he struggled with the name and spit it out, "Voldemort! You can't imagine how your mother fretted every minute of the day, with only that damn radio to listen to for news! What was it called, Potterwatch-"

Arthur Weasley stopped mid sentence and smiled ruefully. "Your brothers did a very brave thing while you were away. A foolish thing, but brave. I don't know if you heard of of it or had a chance to listen to it-"

"I did," interrupted Ron, eyes watering, "every chance I got." His father's eyes began tearing up to match his own.

"They had these names they'd made up, it seemed," said Ron. "F-Fred was on there, every bloody time, arguing about his code name, joking with George..." He was crying openly now. Suddenly he felt arms around him. Ron looked up at his father's gentle face and broke down completely.

Father and son, they sobbed together. For how long, neither knew. After a time, they parted and each wiped their eyes.

"I love you, Dad," Ron sniffed and hugged his father tightly.

Arthur had no words.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the lateness, it takes me awhile to really sort out my emotions for the chapters-I really relate to some of the things that the Trio are going through so it brings up some issues :/ Anyway, a plush Fawkes to those that review-and my undying love and gratitude. Note-Plush Fawkes cannot actually take you places with fire. Apologies. Next is the memorial :(


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